


Never Hate You

by bobostxrk



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcoholic Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Steve, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Superfamily (Marvel), Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21791056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobostxrk/pseuds/bobostxrk
Summary: ~In no world could Tony Stark ever hate Steve Rogers~Tony awaits a certain visitor's arrival to the Compound.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Kudos: 102





	Never Hate You

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!!!! I wrote this piece a long time ago and I'm publishing it now.
> 
> It's angst with a happy ending. It's the ending we deserved. Or my version of it.
> 
> Established Stony since AOU because come on they definitely banged it out on Clint's farm. 
> 
> I fucking reject canon and I wrote my own stony fix-it after CACW because the Russos can choke and die.
> 
> Hope you like this work! Enjoy!

He's trying to stand upright, but his efforts are slowly diminishing with the rising quake that radiate from the back of his knees to his hips, sending trembles in waves throughout his thighs and knees, urging his legs to buck and make him collapse onto the floor in a heap. His kneecaps feel like jelly and his feet feel like they are being pricked on needles, each tip digging slowly and painfully into every square inch of his skin, untill they become a very part of his anatomy. His legs urge to be ripped off, they no longer wish to suffer this plight and he can feel the loss of sensation slowly creeping up in them, tuning out feeling, which he hasn't been able to do.

_He can't seem to stand anymore._

The fear grips him by the throat and holds him in a vice-like grip, choking him, untill not a single molecule of air lies within his lungs. His breathing is a little laboured, not as bad as he presumed it would be when he got the news. That he's getting a visitor. Who comes in peace after everything that has happened. Tony's putting up a brave fight with the rest of his body and trying therapeutic techniques to calm himself down but he feels the tremors traveling through his body because of unwarranted fear. Fear and perhaps a bit of terror- it's ghastly breath tracing it's serpentine path, slow and eerily, down the back of his neck and length of his spine, initiating volatile trepidations that rock his very being. An icy bite traverses throughout his body as he brings a hand to meddle with the knot of the tie, sitting at the hollow of his throat, and smooth it down repeatedly, trying to feel the soft velvet and let it's smooth, silky texture of the fabric calm his nerves as little as they could.

He feels so cold but also feels so hot at the same time. It's unnerving; confuses him so much so. He wants to rip off his three piece Armani and at the same time, he wants to roll himself in a quilt and lock himself away in his workshop. His haven. He's so close to bolting right now and cancelling this…. this plan, to isolate himself from the world and it's exhausting affairs, to retreat to his haven with his inventions, his robots, his….

He begins to cough, in tiny fits, and they rake daggers along the lining of his throat. His mouth has gone slack and he feels so parched, he needs a drink. Wait! No! We don't do that anymore, he mutters to himself. He promised never to drink again and committed himself to the program, having earned his five year sobriety chip, just three days ago.  
He really craves it, his body and mind yearn it, his soul needs it to feel replenished. The dark part of his mind chants, 'Just one glass, you need it. We need it. Come on. Please. Just one small glass' and for a minute, he glances to the elaborately set up bar in the back of the room. The amber liquids in their expensively decorated glass decanters seem to beckon him to inch closer, and take them all with him. They will offer him peace and he will give them salvation. All he needs to do is pop off the silver-coated crystal cap and raise it to his lips. That is all.  
All his problems will disappear. All his stress will vanish, every ache, every heartbreak, every single ounce of pain will disintegrate and dust away. He just needs to take that first step. That initiative to finally do something for himself after so long.

He licks his lips with a bone-dry tongue and breathes a sigh through his mouth. Just one drink, he thinks and begins to saunter to the bar when the door clicks and creaks to open. His eyes shoot to the door, realising what he's doing, and then he turns his full frame back to the window, pinching himself on the wrist with nails untill he feels blood. It's his punishment for giving into this age old sin, one that has always threatened him at every single stage of life, ever since he was probably of age 14.

He hears footsteps approach, and he can sense their quiet placing, the thump of a shoe on the marble and he audibly notices their din becoming minutely louder with each step. They stop after a while, and he hears the sound of soles shuffling on the panelled wooden flooring, where he stands. Tony's eyes instinctively shifting to the side where the shuffle of feet comes from.

He makes no attempt to take notice of whoever it is who has entered. He can't seem to care. Or he's too scared to face the person. Or he's too angry. Or he's too upset. Whatever it may be, he doesn't want to look in their direction or even give them slightest semblance of acknowledgement.

His eyes have gone back to adoring the beautiful scenery outside the window. The gently undulating lawns are dotted with beautiful trees and bushes, scattered in a myriad of directions. The river flows by quietly beside them, it's swirling path reflecting the grey-white clouds that roll above. They loom large and erumpent, full of water and ice, their bows and dips forming creative curves and figures. He loved cloud-gazing, it was such a beautiful sight to make sense or recognition of the irregular forms that floated across the sky. The sunlight comes from the other direction, it's soft yellow illuminating the view with its evening glow. He adores the scene and forgets the person come to meet him. They may have even gone by now for all he knows. He's engrossed in the view, watching with rapt attention, taking in every single pixel of the landscape and it's breathtaking beauty. It distracts him from the beckoning of the amber liquids and the weight of his self destructive tendencies looming large.

It's rather rude to not take notice of someone who's come to meet him, despite him knowing that the person has arrived but Tony's so tired of having to meet and greet people so much in these past few months, dealing with the Accords and Ross and Pepper just leaving the company for a much needed vacation break and Bruce just vanishing…. The list could go on but Tony has never been one to complain, always trying to do as much as he could, try to fix and save as much as he can, always helping and accommodating. It's what makes Tony, well… Tony.

He's just exhausted. He's tired of the shitstorm outside and inside, he just needs a break so desperately but he can't take one. He's got friends to save, people to acquit and forgive and graves to apologize to….  
It's been years since he's visited their graves. He's never had the strength to go through that again, to relive all the pain he's been bottling up inside for what feels like centuries. They were buried just an hour's drive from the compound, in compliance with his mother's wishes but Tony still couldn't go visit. When he was in Malibu, he had a definite reason but now….. now he just tries to put it off, to dismiss everything that was tied to his childhood with them and just go about his day.

_But, for the last two months, he couldn't._

_He just couldn't._

_He couldn't forget that damned footage he saw in that bunker in Siberia._

_He couldn't forget a single, tiny, excruciating detail of whatever he saw, as it used to constantly play out in his mind, every single night and he'd wake up sweating and panting and alone…._

_Usually, he'd have JARVIS to help….. but now…._

He's cut off from his thoughts, when he hears the person huff and speak:

"Tony..."

He closes his eyes and holds them shut. That deep voice calls out to him for his attention but every time he hears it, even in his own head, all he can seem to do is cry. Or scream. Or want to throttle the owner. Or just want to claw himself from the inside out and squash his brains with his own hands. He's heard it too many times in his recent nightmares, ringing with a sense of doom loomimg about his head in the form of a shield and a bionic prosthesis that want to take his worthless life and cast him to hell.  
Tony remembers that same voice, whispering garbled nonsense in his ear, as the person it came from rocked on top of him that night in Clint's farm, when they confessed hidden emotions and bared themselves to each other right down to the bottom of their soul. It was one hell of a confusing day when the feelings of confusion and regret were high, but that one night seemed so right to Tony. The hot, vicious pleasure he felt bubbling through his every nerve ending, every fiber of his body as they passionately and devotedly made such furious love, which was long overdue. That night, Tony felt like he was finally blessed with something good after the horrible events that presided it, as he nuzzled into that comfortable neck and felt big, rippling arms envelop him protectively and hold him so close.

He swallows thickly and bunches his hands in front of him, flexing his digits around one another as he intertwines both sets of them. He grinds his teeth and clenches his jaws down hard.

Keep it together for just a while, just for a while, untill he leaves..... _Again_.

He hears footsteps inching towards him and as soon as they come close, he feels a hand upon his shoulder, it's gentle tips digging into his collarbone and squeezing ever so slightly.

"Tony, I...."

He flinches immediately and flings himself to the other side of the window, still not facing the man. He doesn't say anything, but the action speaks enough for itself. He swallows again and cocks his head to the side towards the window. He's too terrified right now. Or too scared. Or both. He doesn't know. The very touch that once was a source of warmth and comfort for him now rattles a fear so great through his bones that he's left trembling and he doesn't realize he's gripping the curtains for support, bunching the fabric in his fist as he tries to suppress a sob.

He hears a sniffle come from the other man causing him to chuckle inwardly, at their unison plight. Guilt wells within him and he almost turns around, but his fat ego stops him. He's not going to give in; not after every thing that conspired on that ill-fated day. He sets his jaw and squares his shoulders, still holding onto the cloth for support; his legs are still wobbling and he fears he might collapse in front of this man and he's absolutely mortified at the thought. He does not want to ever show weakness again, not to the world, not to his loved ones and certainly not to this man.  
He closes his eyes, bunching the lids at their conjecture and heaves a sigh. He's exhausted. He's so terribly exhausted of this ordeal and everything it has entailed ever since he joined the Avengers. Maybe he shouldn't have. He shouldn't have even made it out of the bunker. Or the cave in the desert. He should have just died so that he wouldn't be burden like this to anyone.

The soldier sees his shoulders hunch slowly and catches sight of the fist in the curtain. The man is shaking as he clutches and squeezes harder at the fabric, possibly in an attempt to rip it off. He knew it was a bad idea to come but he couldn't let this wound sit and fester, which had opened up long since the airport. Or even the Accords. Ever since Ultron, frankly. It was a nick then but now it was a big, gaping hole and it worsened by the bunker. Steve doesn't regret saving Bucky, he wasn't at fault. He never was. The situation was just ill-timed and Steve, well, he messed up. Big time. Whatever happened that day to Tony was his fault. Guilt sparks within him as he remembers the Iron Man suit below him, watching Tony's eyes, full of anguish and rage but also pleading. He will never forgive himself but he has to try. He's gotta fix it soon or else he knows the other man will slip away. Never to be found again.

"Tony, I... I'm.....". There is a long pause and he can hear sharp breaths drawn in and released in quick succession. Tony closes his eyes. He once reveled in that beautiful, deep voice but now..... now he's just terrified of it. It sends goosebumps flaring across the length of his skin, right from the base of his neck to the small of his back; trembling a bit. Even his smart ass doesn't know what to expect anymore from this situation or any situation further.  
Tony clutches the fabric tighter and he feels tears welling up at the base of his eyes, turning his vision, blurred and murky.

The voice calling out to him mutters something in a low grumble before speaking out again:

"Tony, I'm… I'm sorry."

Silence.

It stretches for quite a while, neither acting nor reacting. It's itchingly deafening and it threatens the very integrity of this setting which already sits at the top of the cliff, precariously.

The man draws in a shaky breath and continues.

"I didn't know what to do Tony. I never wanted it come down to this. I didn't want to have to choose. I couldn't let him die for something he didn't do on his own and I couldn't gather the courage to face you with this. I was scared, Tony. I was terrified of losing you or losing him. Buck's my best friend and I have to protect him. I should have told you sooner, Tony. I should've.... I'm just... I'm a coward! I'm a goddamn coward, Tony. I'm so sorry. I'm really very sorry, Tony. I...."

He hears the voice break into a sob and feels his heart clench painfully within his chest. Hot tears had already started flowing down his cheeks long ago and he's so scared right now. He doesn't want to hurt the other man anymore. He doesn't want to cause him any harm or sorrow. Whatever he did, he did in blind rage. It took him back to his days of drunken stupor and bad choices. All he could see was his mother's face beaming at him from inside his head, affectionately cooing out to him in Italian and his father's lifeless body slumped over the driving wheel. He wasn't thinking and only saw red and retribution. To exact yé oldè eye-for-an-eye from the murderer of his only kin, who left him orphaned and alone in this monstrosity of a world.  
He knows he cannot blame Barnes. He was just a medium, a weapon by the scheming rats to carry out their heinous plan. Eliminating Howard could get the last supply of Erskine's replicated serum and also weaken SHIELD from within, which was inching towards its own demise untill it was saved eventually. His mother was just collateral, a victim of her ill-timed presence. She didn't deserve that plight though, not in a million lifetimes. He cannot even remember her without feeling an unsettling twitch course through his bones, making him wince and crinkle. Barnes may not have consciously carried out the action, but it still sparks a whirlwind within him, sending ripples of heartache, powerful enough to shatter him to pieces.  
His lungs constrict and his chest hurts, the scar left by the shield on his sternum stings; it's stitches ready to cut off and let the blood flow once more. His chest was always sensitive and now, it's even more so. He draws a hand to the spot and presses upon it, to reduce the pain and winces upon contact as he wheezes slightly for air, muffling the noises escaping his stringy vocal chords.

"I hate that I made you scared of me, Tony. I hate that you flinch now when you see me or even hear my name. I promised to protect you forever and I... I'm sorry Tony. I....I was just upset ever since London and.... I'm terribly sorry I hate that you probably now hate me now and it's all my fault because I'm a coward and a horrible person to you. I don't expect you to ever forgive me and I won't force it upon you. I just want another chance, Tony. I want.. please. Please!"

The plea is intermingled with deep, loud sobs and sniffles that bring forth more tears from Tony's face. He's biting his lip to suppress a sob and clutching the curtain even harder. His effort slips eventually and he lets out a faint huff of pain from the depths of his throat and collapses to the floor, knees making first contact followed by his palms. He wheezes audibly and coughs raucously, his head thrumming with each breath of air.

"TONY!"

The man comes forward and kneels down in front of him, to assess the situation. He hurriedly runs and returns with a glass of water and holds it up to his lips.

"Drink, please."

Tony accepts and stars gulping the water as soon as it hits his tongue. The cool, refreshing sensation settles in his throat and calms down the upstart of a cough slowly. It relaxes Tony as he laps it up hungrily and finishes the whole glass.

"Would you like some more?"

He looks up at the man and recognizes that same beautiful face, contorted with worry and pain. His eyebrows knitted together to form a crease smack dab in the middle of them. The wrinkles on his forehead non-existent. The bridge of his nose popping out and nostrils flaring and he sees his plush, deep pink lips, frowning, which are now surrounded and marked with short hairs. He has a beard now, thick and dark and luscious, masking the super-soldier's diamond-cut jaw and perfectly shaped cheekbones. He looks raw and ravishing, like a golden lion, come here to stake claim on Tony's poor, battered heart.  
Complemented by his dirty brown blond hair, which is longer and unkempt now, looking like a hand is all that graced their length, the super-soldier looks wild, but he's still apple pie and hot cocoa, melting Tony's heart and his breath to hitch in his chest at the sight of this man.

Dag-nab serum.

Despite the hipster get up, there is no glint in his aquamarine eyes, they look tired and remorseful. Bags have formed under his eyes, a sign of sleepless nights, which even the serum could not heal and his whole body is hunched morosely.. A shell of what he was. Tony's heart clenches at the sight.

"No, I'm ok. Thank you."

His voice is barely above a whisper and the soldier smiles at him before setting the glass onto the coffee table near by without getting up. His gaze returns to Tony who places a hand on his cheek. The soldier leans into the touch and places his own palm above the other man's hand, caressing his knuckles with a thumb. He turns his face slightly to place a kiss to the other man's palm, before returning it to where it was placed, still caressing it.

Tony's hand feels the thick muzzle of hair and sees his fingers sink into it. He looks at the soldier, full of guilt and remorse. His eyes have lowered to the floor now and Tony softly massages the strands, retracting and expanding his fingers, feeling the shifting of the soft hairs under his ministrations which elicit tears from the soldier's big baby blues now peering at him, in awe of his magnanimous display.

In no world could Tony Stark ever hate Steve Rogers.

"I could never hate you, Steve. Not now, not ever."

The man looks up at Tony and sees his face laced with concern and sorrow. He smiles weakly before Tony ruffles his hair with both hands and settles down on his cheeks, lingering, feeling the thick bush of hair again, now adorning them. A small part of Tony wants to just slap him so goddamn hard but another part wants to soothe him, to run his hands through his hair and face. Steve hooks his hands on Tony's waist and peers at him. He doesn't pull Tony any closer.

"I understand why you did what you did and even though I don't agree, I forgive you Steve. I forgive both of you. I was angry and I just.... I don't hold grudges, that's not me but I cannot face Barnes right now. I need space. I need time to completely come to terms with everything that happened. I don't think I'm fully over it but I know I don't harbour resentment anymore."

Steve nods in response and presses a kiss to Tony's palm which was on his cheek and holds his hand with both of his, clutching them close to his chest. His heart is thumping now, he's elated that Tony's forgiven both of them but he understands his need for space. Steve will always respect Tony's wishes, no matter what.

"I want to bring you guys back first. T'Challa and I are already working on fixing the Accords. Ross blew a goddamn bomb when he got to know you freed everyone from the Raft like a little shit." Tony smirks at him, adoring his audacious Captain, who smirks in response, before continuing, "We contacted Selvig and Jane to try and contact Thor. I don't know how that's going to happen but…. Yeah, and we're scouring every single nook and cranny for Bruce. We're gonna fix this, Steve. I want to make this right."

Steve brimmed with so much pride and love that he just keels forward and places a long, deep kiss on Tony's beautiful forehead, savoring the contact he's been deprived of for two months.

"And hey, we have our little Spider-ling to take care of!"

The mention of Peter elicits a small chuckle from Steve, who recalls the fight between him and the kid. He absolutely adores him and is happy that Tony is now mentoring someone personally, like how he did Wanda and the rest of the team, side by side with Nat.

"I love that kid. He's got a lot of heart."

"He reminds me of you, Steve."

They lock gazes with each other now. They've missed each other so much even for the short span of 5 months they've been separated. Every simple thing reminded them of each other.  
Peter reminded Tony of himself and Steve, like he's their lovechild, with an intellect like his and mannerisms like Steve's. Steve thinks Tony would love Wakanda and their technology, which would send him gaga.

Tony shifts closer, using his knees, to the soldier, a few inches away from his visage, their hands still locked, and continues speaking.

"I cannot blame him. I've tried to but I cannot. He was just a weapon. I have to make amends to both of you, especially him. I've drawn up a prototype for another arm and I'm willing to help in any other way possible. Therapy. Rehab. You name it. I'm willing to give us another chance and try again. Not only as teammates and Avengers. I still love you, Steven, and I always will."

Steve's face lights up and he draws Tony in close, locking their chests, almost crushing him as he whispers sweet thank yous and I love you's into Tony's ears. He clasps his arms around Tony's waist tightly and buries his face in his neck, savouring the sweet smell of blueberries and coconut and cologne that Tony always gave off.  
Tony clasps his hand around Steve's broad back and runs another through his hair, comforting him like a hurt puppy. He's smiling at the littany of words pouring from his mouth and also at the tickling sensation of the beard at his shoulder, snickering in response.

Tony turns his head and kisses Steve's ear. The Captain releases him from the bear hug and smiles down at him. He lifts Tony's chin and frames his face in his big hands, before bringing down a big sloppy kiss down onto the smaller man's forehead again.

"I love you, Tony."

"I love you too, Steve."

They settle into a hug again and stay in that comfortable position for a very long time, feeding off of each others warmth in mute solace. They are reminded of their promise to each other that fateful night after Ultron had gone so horribly wrong. No matter what happens, they'll always do everything together.

 _Together_.

Tony hears his phone ping and checks it to see it's two texts from Peter. He opens it with Steve as they read it in unison.

_Peter: Hey, Mr. Stark! I think I saw Captain America driving past the signal when I was going to school on the bus. I hope he's coming to the Compound to see you. Please sort it out, this is tearing everyone apart. I'm sorry I couldn't text you earlier because Flash threw my phone into the carpark bushes.... I'm on lunch break now and I thought I'd give you the heads up. This is Peter by the way. Parker._

_Peter: Mr. Stark, how did it go? Did he come to see you? Pls reply, I'm dying to know. Oh god, don't panic I'm fine but I really really want to know if you guys are fine pls! This is Peter again._

Tony and Steve look at each others faces before bursting out in laughter as their arms clasp each other close at the waist. Their bodies resonate in unison with the loud vibrations of laughter which conclude in happy tears and adoration for their little Spider-boy.

_Everything's going to be fine._

**Author's Note:**

> There you go! This is what I wanted! This is what everyone wanted! UGH, I need to zap my brain to fucking forget everything after CACW except FOR THE GOOD CONTENT LIKE RAGNAROK, CAPTAIN MARVEL AND AMATW CAUSE THOSE WERE GOLD.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> My work is unbeta'd so please let me know if there are any problems I should fix.
> 
> Kudos and comments will be very much appreciated!


End file.
